When your mean boss asks you if you're ready to admit defeat-and move out of his car...you wonder where you went wrong in life. Two weeks ago, I was an optimistic office girl with a Pinterest vision board and a dream. Now? I'm standing in a billionaire's penthouse office, trying not to throw a donut at his smug, perfect face. McCarthy Svensson is my new boss-slash-personal tormentor. Though he thinks he's my only protector. He's wrong. He's way worse than the merry-go-round of ex fiancés who may or may not be stalking me, including ex-fiancé number one of three, who fakes his death then pops up out of a casket. Alive. Yes, I have a messy dating life. I like to think it makes me unique and quirky! He doesn't seem to think so. When he growls, "I'm not helping you until you admit you need me," I slam a binder against his chest and smile sweetly. "Pick your fake girlfriend, buddy. Deadline's midnight." He smirks. "As long as she's nothing like you."